


Tranquility.

by Alexander_Slamilton



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex likes wearing other people's clothes, Friends to Lovers, M/M, first times?, i have never written hamburr before so be gentle, idek, like a lot of first kisses, other people like seeing Alex in their clothes, rev war, shippy but some are more platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9278087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_Slamilton/pseuds/Alexander_Slamilton
Summary: Prompt: Alexander wearing other people's clothes!!For Skoop <3"Tranquillitynoun: tranquilitythe quality or state of being tranquil; calm."





	

Alexander arrived in New York in time for the winter weather to have started creeping in. He’d never seen cold like this before; he had already found out that the early morning starts that had been blissfully cool in Nevis were freezing and brutal in New York. To get to his classes in time, each morning, he had to be up and out the door at 6:30; he was staying with Hercules whilst he sorted out something on campus. So they were stuck in Herc’s rooms above his shop, where there wasn’t enough space for Alexander to have his own bedroom. They hung a curtain between their beds so that gave them some modicum of privacy, but clothes became common territory. 

 

It had started to snow, the white flakes piling up on the window sill, the breeze creeping in through the gaps between the glass and the wood. Alexander lay shivering in his bed, waiting for the clock to chime 5:00 in the morning. He watched the window become increasingly covered in white. He hadn't slept the night before, not even Herc’s snores could lull him off to rest; he could feel his brain sluggishly begging for sleep as he shivered under five blankets. He could hear the wind whistling outside, howling through the houses and streets, blowing the snow in to an impenetrable wall of white. The sign that hung outside the shop creaked and groaned in the wind, violently swinging back and forth. The clock chimed, Herc moaned and muttered something about Alexander always waking him up. 

 

The candle Alex had brought to bed the night before was still on his bedside table, it wasn't lit but he could still see the shadow of it against the white linen curtain. He fumbled around for the matches, trying to feel for the box amongst the detritus that cluttered the table. His fingers found the box, and somehow he managed to light a match, he brought the quivering flame to the wick and watched the room light up with a flickering orange light. He rolled out of bed, his feet slapping on the cold wood floor; he fumbled around the room, feeling for his clothes. He found a pair of breeches first, definitely his, they fell to just the right spot at his knee and they had the right fastenings (he’d never liked the buckles Hercules favoured). He found a shirt and pulled it on, the sleeves came down well past his hands it must have been Hercules’ but he didn't care, he coat and waistcoat would hide the fact that the shirt was a little big. Well, if big meant that it actually came down to about his knees, he tucked it in to his breeches and thought nothing of it. If he secretly liked the feel of Hercules’ shirt against his skin, he didn't mention it; nor did he bring any attention to it. 

 

(If Hercules liked seeing Alexander in his shirt, he didn't mention it; nor did he bring his feelings to attention.)

 

Nothing more was mentioned about that day, though Hercules’s shirts seemed to go missing an awful lot. He was always having to scavenge shirts from the pile of unsold ones he had in his shop. Alexander always seemed to have new ones as he ran off for his classes, coming home too late for Hercules to ask him about the shirts. Though the sight of Alexander standing in the doorway, cold, wet, and shivering; his coat torn, waistcoat ripped open and shirt (that Hercules knew was his) muddied and hanging off his shoulders was enough for Hercules to gather him in his arms and bring him upstairs. 

 

“What happened to you?” He asked, wrapping Alexander in a blanket. 

 

“Some boys, by the library, thought it would be fun to knock me down and steal my bag,” Alexander groaned, “I had all my papers in there, I’ll have to re-write them. And your shirt.” Alex stopped and looked up at Hercules.

 

“I don’t mind,” Hercules smiled, running a finger through Alex’s wet hair, “it suits you.”

 

 

***

 

Valley Forge was cold and dark, the winds howled and shook the little tent, whipping it; the canvas flapped and cracked around them. They had no rest, even in the depths of winter, the aides struggled on writing in to the night. The days were short and the nights were long and they burnt through more candles that they were strictly supposed to but they still had about three letters left to write. They had been up since the sun had sunk below the horizon the day before, and Alexander’s eyes were drooping slowly. His hands were shaking as he picked up his quill pen and tried to dip it in the ink pot. 

 

“Alex?” John asked, looking over at him, sitting at his little desk, his left leg shaking up and down. 

 

“Yeah?” Alexander mumbled his head drooping alarmingly. 

 

“Are you alright?” John stood and walked over to Alex’s desk, touching his forehead and tipping his face up so he could see. 

 

“I’m fine, just,” Alex broke off and waved his arm about a little more vigorously than he’d intended, so much so that he knocked over the ink bottle, the black liquid spread over the letters they’d spent all evening writing, it dripped off the table and on to Alexander’s lap. The light brown buckskin breeches turned black as the sky outside, Alexander let out a sob. 

 

“Alex?” John grabbed at the pages of writing and tried his best to get the worst of the ink off them, luckily the pages were so thick the ink hadn’t soaked through. 

 

“These were my last clean breeches. The others are caked in mud and shit. I can’t go to Washington like this,” Alex gestured to his ink covered state.

 

What John meant to say was that he’d go instead, but what came out John’s mouth was, “you can borrow some of my breeches if you want?” 

 

“I can- what?” Alexander looked up at John, his eyes flickering over John’s face. 

 

“You can… borrow a pair of my breeches if you want?” John said, swallowing; he could see Alexander’s eyes move down his throat. 

 

“I- I- sure,” Alexander smiled, and stood up, “I can’t go to Washington like and he did say he wanted to see me, so.”

 

John relaxed, Alexander had not caught on to the desire in his eyes; the excitement he felt bubbling up in his stomach at the thought of Alexander wearing his clothes. His stomach clenched and swooped a little as he bent over his trunk, searching for his spare pair of breeches. Light was low in their tent, the candles were burning out, and seeing things was getting difficult. He found them, buried under a spare shirt; they were a little crumpled, but at least they were in far finer condition than the pair Alexander was currently wearing. He watched as Alexander stepped out of his own ruined breeches, and into the pair he’d handed him. Alexander smoothed his hands down the buckskin, almost reverently, ironing out the worst of the crinkles. 

 

“They’re not-“

 

“They’re fine, better than what I was wearing,” Alexander cut him off, smiling and hustling out of the tent, brushing past John, his hand lingering slightly on John’s shoulder. 

 

John sank in to his chair, resting his head on his hands, muttering to himself. He didn't know what about Alexander in his breeches was so… alluring. He’d hardly been able to keep his eyes off the other man. He knew, no matter what, that he was getting no more work done tonight; so he set about clearing his desk, and tidying the left over papers and ink pots that were spread about the table. 

 

All too soon, the tent flap lifted and Alexander was walking back in to the tent, new notes for correspondence clutched in his hand. John took him in, looking him up and down, he was silent as Alexander leaned forward to put the letters down on their desks; giving them each and equal amount. He watched as Alex then sat in his chair and looked up at him, through his eye lashes. 

 

“Washington sent me back,” Alexander whispered, “said I was distracted this evening, said that he didn't have anything else to say to me.”

 

“Wh- Why were you distracted,” John breathed, words choking him for a second as they made their way out of his mouth. 

 

“I was thinking about you,” Alexander smiled, his gaze was almost predatory as he rose from his seat and crowded John against the flimsy walls of their tent, “tell me to stop. Tell me not kiss you and I won’t.”

 

But John didn't say anything, no words would come out, not that he would have wanted any to. Instead he took Alex’s face in his hands, running a thumb along his cheekbone, and kissed him. Pulling on the bow at the bottom of Alex’s queue to let his hair run free over his shoulders. 

 

 

***

 

The winter wind howled around the building, creeping in through the gaps in the brickwork; making its beastly presence known in the worst way possible. Snow and ice had gathered up, plastering the door of the small farmhouse shut. No matter how hard they shoved, Alexander and Lafayette could not encourage the door to budge. Luckily, the house had been prepared for at least one occupant, Lafayette had chosen the place for its proximity to the house Washington was staying in. He and Alexander had been innocently playing a card game, not paying much attention to the weather, and, before they knew it, Alexander was trapped. There was no way they were getting Alex back to his place by the General’s side, not before morning anyway. Alexander was just bemoaning the fact that he would be in crinkled clothes tomorrow, and that he had left a large pile of correspondence on his desk.

 

“You’ll have to stay,” Lafayette sighed, smiling grimly at Alex, “you can borrow a shirt to sleep in from me, if you wish.”  
  
Alexander’s heart skipped a beat, as he pulled the soft linen shirt over his head, it hung down well past his knees. He breathed in, letting Lafayette’s scent fill his nostrils; each time he moved he got a waft of it. It was a secret of his, that he’d never tell anyone, that he loved wearing other people’s clothes. The shirt was nothing really special, just a normal white linen shirt, the same as Alex had been wearing, but something about the fact that Lafayette had worn it made it instantly special. 

 

“You can’t sleep on the floor,” Lafayette said, bustling around as Alex stood awkwardly. 

 

“Really, I-“

 

“Non,” Lafayette huffed, “I would never forgive myself, you’ll sleep with me.”

 

Alexander choked slightly, before he grinned, trying to ignore the blush that spread across his cheeks, “you mean I’ll sleep in your bed?”

 

“With me, oui,” Lafayette rolled his eyes, “I am not taking the floor either, mon ami.” Lafayette squeezed him on the shoulder, moving the one flickering candle from the table in the kitchen, to the bedroom, where he placed it on a side table.

 

“Oh, sure,” Alexander smiled, more at ease, before he climbed in to the bed, next to Laf.

 

The next morning dawned bright, the sun reflecting off the white snow and straight through the window of the little farmhouse. Alexander woke, he was curled around Lafayette, their legs intertwined. He was so warm, and so comfortable he never wanted to move from that position, but Washington would want to see him. He made to move, but Lafayette just held on tighter. 

 

“You don’t have to go just yet,” Lafayette mumbled sleepily into Alexander’s hair, “stay with me a while.”

 

“Washington will want to see me,” Alexander said, softly, making to get out the bed and out of the warm circle of Lafayette’s embrace. 

 

“Bah, we’ll just tell him we were digging out a path in the snow,” Lafayette grinned, his eyes still closed, “stay. I don’t want you to go just yet.” 

 

Alexander pretended not to notice the kiss that was pressed to the top of his head when he grumbled his acquiescence. 

 

***

 

The army was on the move, plodding along slowly through the Connecticut hills and valleys, their feet slipped and slid in the mud never really having any grip on the slippery surface. Alexander could see General Washington and General Gates up at the front of the column, as he rode about three people behind; always at summoning distance. Rain no longer fell on them, a blessed relief from that mornings deluge, and Alex could already feel the army’s sprits lifting; though his hair still sent cold, wet rivulets down the back of his shirt. His horse was in a worse state, plodding slowly, as though each step was a trial, its head was bowed and its ear permanently point back; Alexander liked his horse, he’d had it since the battle of Harlem Heights in 1775, it was three years later and he’d never had to change. 

 

“Mayhaps, it’s time to retire you, old friend,” he said, sadly petting the horse’s neck softly. 

 

“Company, halt!” Washington cried from the front, “we’re camping here tonight. Hamilton?”

 

“Sir!” Alex shouted up the line.

 

“With me,” Washington said, gesturing for him to ride forward.

 

“Burr,” Gates called looking at a point about ten meters behind and to the left of Alex. “Come up here.”

 

Alex spurred his horse on, moving up the line and toward his General, he looked to his left and there was Aaron Burr. They’d not seen each other since Alexander had tried to get in to Princeton, he’d met Burr in a tavern on the university campus. He’d liked the man, Burr had been charming, a little cold but nice enough to spend an evening with. That had been almost five years ago, and Alexander hadn't seen hide nor hair of Burr since. He’d heard about him of course, but nothing prepared him for seeing the man again. 

 

Burr had changed, even just the way he held himself, straight backed and elegant had shifted. He was a vision of self assuredness, self confidence emanated through his pores. He rode with simple style and grace up to General Gates. Alexander couldn't stop himself from staring. Burr looked over at him and smiled, his white teeth showing through as he inclined his head towards Alex. 

 

“Burr, sir, good to see you again,” Alexander smiled slightly.

 

“And you, Hamilton,” Burr said, as he trotted over to General Gates.

 

“Alexander, my boy,” Washington touched a hand to Alex’s shoulder, “are you alright, the ride not too hard on you?”

 

“I’m fine, sir,” Alexander said, snapping out of the reverie seeing Burr again had flung him in to. 

 

“Good,” Washington smiled, “there’s a farmhouse large enough to occupy General Gates, myself and both of our aides. Make sure the men settle in here and then ride to the farmhouse, I’ll be waiting to go over the day’s correspondence with you.” 

 

“Our, aides should ride to the farmhouse together, Burr will be able to help Hamilton in seeing that the men are settled here.” Gates said, shrugging at Washington, “two sets of eyes are better than one, are they not, Commander?”

 

“Indeed, they are,” Washington nodded, and looked at Alex, “what say you?”

 

“It would help, since Laurens is in France, to have another pair of eyes,” Alexander inclined his head, knowing that Washington’s mind was already made up about the matter. 

 

“Very well then, Burr, you’re with Hamilton today, defer to him.” Gates turned his horse and, after Washington, rode off towards the farmhouse. 

 

The two men looked at each other before coming to silent agreement, Burr would take the left hand side of the column and, Hamilton, the right. The men they each knew smiled and saluted as they passed, moving out of the way of their horses as they rode up and down the lines. The camp was set up quickly enough, the soldiers all well practised by now, and Burr and Hamilton were ready to ride up to the farmhouse to join their Generals by the time the sun was ghosting the tops of the trees. 

 

“Hamilton, you’ve certainly come up in the world since we last me,” Burr said, as they rode up the rocky path.

 

“Aye, well, General Washington was generous enough to give me a job based on Nathaniel Greene’s recommendation, after Harlem Heights.” Alexander gestured with his hand, “I was an artillery captain back then, he saw me perform at the battles of Trenton and Princeton and hired me as his aide pretty soon after.” 

 

“I see, I did hear about the young captain who rose quite suddenly through the ranks,” Burr nodded, not looking at Alexander, “General Gates hired me based on Washington’s recommendation, he had no use for me, he said his staff was full.” 

 

“Ah, I see,” Alexander said, looking at the trees as they passed them, “I am sure that you General Gates just as much help as you would General Washington. Both are fine men.” 

 

“Aye, of course,” Burr smiled, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders, “General Gates is an honourable officer and a fine commander.” 

 

They rode in a more comfortable silence after that; Alexander had the opportunity to properly look at Burr, taking the other man in. He was certainly a sight to behold, sitting upright and proud on a dapple grey horse, the sun setting behind him casting golden rays of light over him. His blue coat fitted his shoulders and back, leaving little about the shape of the man to his imagination; Alexander would have gladly looked at Burr for years, wasting away just keep him in his sights. Burr didn't look round at Alex, instead he kept staring straight ahead, gaze focussed on the road ahead. 

 

“Welcome boys,” Tench Tilghman said, waving his arms around him, “this is home for the next few days, whilst we replenish stocks. There’s only one room free, since the both of you are the last to get here, you’ll have to share.” 

 

“Fine, could you show us it,” Burr asked, dismounting and hitching his horse to a post.

 

Alexander followed, stroking his horse’s neck and pressing his forehead to the animal’s, he de-tacked, taking the saddle off and leaving his horse free, giving the animal a longish rein so he could wander a little. Then he followed Burr and Tilghman in to the house. The room Tilghman showed them to was small, there were two cots lined up against the wall and a small strip of space in-between them and nothing else. Tilghman left, letting the two men get settled into their living quarters. 

 

The night came on fast, the dark falling over the camp like a inescapable curtain. Alexander sat on his cot, writing board propped on his knees, his quill skating over the parchment. Burr watched him, eyes never leaving Alexander’s face. He watched as Alex shivered, the small fire in the grate doing nothing to keep him warm. Eventually, he got sick of watching Alexander shiver, so he got up and retrieved his coat from the top of his trunk. 

 

“Here, use this,” he said, draping the coat over Alex’s shoulder. 

 

Alex looked up in shock, “what?” 

 

“You were shivering,” Burr shrugged and turned to go back to his coat. 

 

“Wait,” Alexander said, wriggling to get comfortable in Burr’s coat, “you can keep me, warm if you like.”

 

Burr stopped, turning back to face Alexander who looked up at him from the bed, eyes wide and hopeful. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at Alex, his heart thumping in his chest, so loudly he thought the whole camp could hear. He looked down at his wrist caught in Alexander’s hand, his fingers gripping him, keeping him in place. Alexander looked up at him, his lips parted slightly, as if he was shocked by the words that had just come out of his mouth. The world seemed to stop from spinning, time seemed to slow, the seconds becoming more like days, the minutes drawing out to what felt like days. Burr never took his eyes off Alexander’s, not when he climbed on the bed, not when he took the writing board and put it on the floor; not when he was lying Alexander down, ensconced in his arms. 

 

“I suppose I could,” Burr said, burying his face in Alexander’s hair, placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

**Author's Note:**

> SKOOP!! I hope you liked this and I hope it kinda fit what you wanted!! ily <3


End file.
